


Jughead Jones and the Quest for Something Sweet

by bluevelvetvideo



Category: Potterdale, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bughead Secret Santa, F/M, Fluff, Meet-Cute, Potterdale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:13:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22364671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevelvetvideo/pseuds/bluevelvetvideo
Summary: It’s wintertime and Jughead Jones is craving something he can’t for the life of him remember the name of. With the help of a very helpful Honeydukes employee, he may just find what he is looking for and then some.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 12
Kudos: 73
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, Bughead Secret Santa





	Jughead Jones and the Quest for Something Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cattycooper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattycooper/gifts).



> A very Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to the incomparable @bettycooper. My apologies for this being late and to keep you waiting, but I hope this was worth the wait
> 
> This fandom would be nothing without all of the hardwork and love you put into it and we are lucky to have you and everything you contribute. I am so lucky to know you and get to call you a friend.

He had been browsing the shelves at Honeydukes for far too long, looking for something so specific he could barely discern what it was. Jughead Jones wanted something. He knew exactly what it was, could even taste it on his tongue, but he couldn’t remember the name of it. It wasn’t the first time he’d had such a desire for something sweet; it was a very common occurrence, in fact. Last time he’d had such an intense craving, it was for acid pops, and it didn’t actually go very well. He’d had so many that it’d taken days for the burn hole in his tongue to close up. 

He browsed the stocked shelves of the shop, hopelessly searching for his nameless treat, scouring each item. The colorful boxes of Bertie Botts and Fizzing Whizbees were not what he was searching for. He groaned in frustration, hands pulling through his already unruly locks as he dropped his head back in defeat.

“Something I can help you find?”

Jughead turned slowly to the girl who’d asked the offending question. Of course he needed help, but he was pretty sure she wouldn’t be able to help if he couldn’t even remember the name of what he was looking for.

He looked her up and down. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t quite place it. 

“I mean you can try,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Try me.” The small blonde girl quirked her lip up to the side and placed a hand on her hip. “What’re you looking for?”

“It’s very specific.”

“Okay. What is it?”

“I don’t know the name of it.”

“It’s very specific, but you don’t know the name of it?” She cocked her head to the side, sheer confusion painted across her face.

“This is why I said you can _try_.” 

He laughed because he knew how ridiculous this whole venture was, but nothing was satisfying his sweet tooth, and it was driving him absolutely mad. 

He was feeling nostalgic for something he remembered from a lifetime ago. He hadn’t been amongst Muggles since his father got a job at the Ministry when he was eight. FP Jones II had declared his disdain for Muggle-kind and kept Jughead far away from anything that was remotely non-magical. Jughead grew up with witches and wizards, sheltered to the point that if he didn’t have his own memories, and his father’s drunken ramblings as evidence, he would barely know that there were people who weren’t magic.

But this craving was certainly memory fueled. His mother, every winter, would make baked goods of every kind. Jughead would sit on the counter of the kitchen and help her—by helping her, he most definitely meant licking beaters and spoons and stealing fingertips of frosting and sweet concoctions. He would ask questions and tell his mother that her baking was like the best magic he’d ever seen. 

He remembered his father not being too keen the first time he’d heard his son say that baking was better than actual magic. He remembered the fights his parents would have while he was reading under the blankets in his bedroom, pretending to be asleep. Their voices were always a hushed-roar through the walls. 

_“I can’t have a magical child, FP,” she’d say._

_“He’s your son, Gladys. What are you going to do, walk away from this family?”_

And that’s exactly what she did.

One morning, in the dead of winter, when Jughead came to the breakfast table, there was no breakfast, no mother, and a very distraught FP. Only a week later, he accepted his job as an Auror advisor to help bring down the Serpents.

“You still with me?” the girl asked, waving her hand in front of his face.

He’d spaced out, stuck in the memories of his past, trying his hardest to remember what the hell he was in search of.

“Yeah, sorry.” His cheeks warmed under her undivided attention. “I guess I just never learned what it was called. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Well, when was the last time you had it?”

That was a good question, he thought. It had to have been years.

“When I was eight. So, fifteen years ago.” He tugged on the ends of his hair again in frustration.

Her mouth twitched back and forth as she thought about what he had said.

“I know it isn’t particularly helpful, but that’s all I’ve got.” He shrugged before shoving his hands deep into his jacket pockets. 

The girl turned away and walked over to her coworker.

“I’m leaving early,” he overheard her say to the girl behind the counter. He couldn’t quite make out what she said next, but before he knew it, she was taking off her jacket—the one that let everyone know she was an employee at the sweet shop—and placing it on the counter. 

“Come with me.” She lead him to a small table and chairs in the back corner of the shop.

He simply nodded and trailed behind her, sitting across from her when she plopped herself down at a table. She folded her hands down on the table, fingers laced, and smiled at him.

“I want to help you. So, I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability.”

“Okay,” he agreed skeptically, leaning back in his chair.

He took advantage of her momentary silence and actually looked at her. She was beautiful, which he thought to be a grave understatement the more his eyes travelled her face. The perfect shade of blonde that he’d always been attracted to, the green of her eyes that reminded him of his favorite flavor of apple hard candy—there was only one problem, he noted mentally.

“I’m sorry...” He leaned forward, eyes slightly squinted. “What’s your name?”

She smiled brightly and it nearly took all the air from his lungs. “Betty Cooper,” she said, sticking her hand out across the table.

“Jughead Jones.” When he took her hand into his, it was almost electric. He let his hand linger there for what was probably longer than customary before he pulled it away.

“Now”—she adjusting herself in her seat—“Is it sweet or savory? Wait. No. That was a ridiculous question. You’re looking in a sweets shop. It must be sweet. Is it fruit sweet or chocolate sweet?”

“Chocolate.”

“Crunchy or gummy?”

“Can it be both?” He realized that sounded like a stupid response, but it _was_ both.

“I mean, I guess it can be. Why don’t we try this instead? Tell me about the last time you had it.”

_Oh_. 

“Well, I was eight,” he reiterated. “My mom was in the kitchen. She’d made it. It was the coolest thing my pre-magic, tiny self had ever seen.”

“Oh! So it was homemade! That certainly helps narrow it down.”

“She always said it was better than the store-bought kind, but I don't know where I'd begin to find it. She used to let me lick the spoon,” he said with a nostalgic smile. “It was soft, but there were thick bits of chocolate inside that made it crunchy.” His mouth was watering just talking about it.

He watched as her eyes flitted back and forth, eyelids fluttering, thinking, going through the mental Rolodex of delicious treats he was sure her mind was filled with.

“Jughead”—her hands landed on the table—“I know what you’re looking for. I’m going to need you to come with me.”

She scooted herself out from the table and neatly tucked the chair back in before offering her hand to him. He got up from the table slowly, taking her hand, because who was he to say no to holding hands with a beautiful woman?

She waved to her coworker as they left the store, heading out into the bustling sidewalks of High Street. Betty didn’t say anything as she led Jughead away from the rest of the shops down a fairly well-lit alleyway. Her hand was still gripping his as she pulled a wand—willow from what he could tell—from her tall, black leather boot. 

“Are you ready?” Her smile was still bright as she chuckled.

“Ready for what?”

“You _have_ Apparated before, haven’t you?”

_No, of course not. I’m not that strong of a wizard._ “Uhh…”

“That’s okay. Hang onto me— _tight.”_ She winked as she grabbed him and pulled him closer. 

With a flick of her wand, and before he could even open his eyes, he felt the cold bite of winter fading to the sudden heat of somewhere new. 

“Where are we?”

“My apartment.” She let go of his side and he immediately mourned the loss of her warmth. “There is an amazing shop a block away that has exactly what you’re looking for.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is, or is this one of those ‘wait to find out when we get there’ situations?” He laughed.

“Well, I was going to tell you,” she teased, throwing a wink over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. “But now you’ll have to wait.”

She grabbed a pink trench coat off of the small coat tree in the corner of the foyer they’d landed in before opening the door.

She wasn’t kidding when she said it was only a block away. Just before they got to anything resembling a dessert shop, Betty stopped them.

“I really hope this is what you’re looking for. Otherwise, this is a terribly awkward first date.”

His eyes could have bulged right out of his head. A date? Is that was this was supposed to be? He certainly wouldn’t be complaining, not by a long shot. A beautiful blonde who knew her way around dessert and clearly wasn’t repulsed by him? That standard wasn’t set too high, but who was he to snub an opportunity like this?

He could hear the sweet sound of her giggle coming from his side as she fiddled with the scarf around her neck. It was green and silver, a relic of her Hogwarts days, he was sure. How he hadn't noticed it earlier, he wasn’t sure. _She would be a Slytherin_ , he laughed with a slight upturn of his lips. With the way she deigned this a date, it made total sense. 

“Well, if it isn’t, that gives us an excuse for a second,” he half-joked.

“Then let’s hope this place doesn’t have the ‘something sweet’ you’re looking for.” She reached for his hand to guide them the rest of the way to the shop.

It wasn’t nearly as busy or well stocked as Honeydukes, but the second he walked in the door, it smelled like every good thing he remembered about his mother. 

“Hey, Betty. Didn’t think we’d be seeing you so soon. What brings you back?” a young, chipper store clerk chimed. 

“My date here,” she gestured to Jughead with a wink, “seems to be in dire need of something he doesn’t know the name of.”

There was a teasing lilt in her voice accompanied by the smallest of giggles. It was one of the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard. He certainly wouldn’t mind making her laugh again. The corner of his mouth tipped into a smile as heat rushed to his cheeks.

The store clerk looked at him, perplexed, but Jughead simply shrugged his shoulders and squeezed Betty’s hand. The slight squeeze back made the tips of his ears burn. 

“I am the date,” he said stoically raising their joined hands to identify himself. 

He heard the rumblings of her precious giggle, and he realized that being his awkward self was actually winning her over—or had she already been won? Not that she was a prize, but he knew what he meant and that was all that mattered.

He shook the confusion from his head.

“So, what can we get for you?”

“Soft or crunchy?” Betty asked him, looping her arm around his waist as she settled in closer, tucking herself under his chin.

He nuzzled his nose against her hair and smiled into her crown. He hummed, thinking back on one of his earliest childhood memories, which once harbored nothing but resentment for his father and nostalgia for his mother, but was now being redefined with this beautiful blonde woman in the middle of a Muggle London bakeshop.

“Both?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

He could feel her shoulders shaking in laughter before she pulled herself from his side. She took a few steps closer to the counter and pointed at two different things in the case without saying a word. He watched her, still very confused over how he wound up in this situation to begin with.

He wasn’t even sure he still wanted the sweet from his childhood, but he certainly had an interest in something sweet from Betty. He was sure he wasn’t actually that lucky.

She rejoined him with a plain blue bag swaying back and forth, the handles balancing delicately on her fingers. 

“Shall we take this back to my place?”

“Are you normally this forward with strangers in search of dessert?” He chuckled lightly, holding his hand out for her.

She laced their fingers together and smiled sweetly up at him. He was sure he would never get over someone looking at him quite like that.

“Generally speaking,” she started, leading him out of the bakeshop and onto the street. “No. But I think there’s something about you.” She pulled his arm over her shoulder and leaned in closer.

They walked in step back to her flat, making small talk until it was time for her to dislodge herself from under his arm to unlock the door. Betty outstretched her arm, welcoming Jughead back into her apartment before taking off her coat and offering to take his. “I’ll be right back.”

He took that time to look around. Her apartment was bright and airy. Walking through one doorway, he saw an overstuffed bookshelf filled with titles he’d read more times than he was willing to admit, and a few that had been on his list to read for longer than he would have liked. He ran his fingers over the worn spines and smiled to himself.

When he turned around, she was leaning against the doorway with a smile still on her face. It was almost like she hadn’t been without one since they’d met. 

Betty’s easy-going air dissipated and he could see her nerves written all over her face. “So, do you actually want this treat? Or was it all a clever ploy to get me to go out with you?” She shoved her hands in her pockets and rocked on her heels.

“No ploy, I promise. I am not nearly smooth enough to pull something like this off.” He left the bookshelf to approach her. “You just took my desperate plea for nostalgia and ran with it.”

He tucked a stray piece of golden hair behind her ear.

“Thanks for letting me. I could have been a complete crazy person and you just trusted me to Apparate you across London without a second thought.”

Jughead shrugged. “Who was I to say no to a beautiful woman wanting to whisk me off my feet?”

“Well, thanks for trusting me, Jughead.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Jughead’s cheek, and he could still feel the searing heat of her lips well after she’d returned to the ground.

Betty led him to the dining room where she’d unpacked their dessert onto two linen napkins—a small container of brown _something_ that appeared to have chunks in it and two round biscuit-like things next to it on each napkin. There was a glass of milk waiting on the right-hand side of each napkin and a shiny silver spoon to the left. 

It was a proper table setting, an honest to God proper table setting. It had been years since he’d seen it, probably since his Hogwarts days, but he appreciated the attention to detail.

“Where’d you learn all this?” 

“My mother was always a stickler for proper etiquette.” She shrugged. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Well, it’s lovely.” He pulled out a chair at one of the settings and offered it to her. 

Betty nodded and smiled, taking her seat. Jughead tucked her into the table before taking his own seat, his mouth already watering.

“So, are you ready?” A saccharine-sweet smile was plastered on her face.

“You have no idea.” He licked his lips. “What is this called, anyway?”

“Maybe I’ll tell you on our second date,” she said, leaning on an elbow, inching closer to him.

He matched her movements. 

“So, I’ve earned myself a second date?”

“More than.” She leaned a little closer, nuzzling her nose with his.

He knew this could be a solid opportunity to kiss her, but as much as he wanted to, it felt a bit soon. He barely knew her last name. _Cooper_. But he didn’t know her favorite color or anything important about her. He nudged her nose back, but he didn’t close the distance.

Her breath fanned against his skin and he couldn’t help but smile. He’d definitely made the right decision allowing her to essentially kidnap him without so much as a negative thought about it. She could have murdered him, or done anything she wanted really, but she hadn’t. And there was something special about her—someone who didn’t have any ulterior motives, someone who was simply doing a good deed.

Jughead turned back to the place setting and picked up his spoon. He carefully dipped it into the cup, coating the spoon in the viscous, brown gunk. He held it up to his nose and sniffed it thoroughly before glaring at it—as if it was going to do a trick—before popping the polished silver in his mouth.

The groan that escaped his throat would have been embarrassing if his anticipation hadn’t been building all day toward this finish line.

“Gods, this is perfect.” He moaned around the spoon, diving back in for another bite. “Thank you,” he said around his second bite, the utensil still hanging from his mouth.

“Maybe next time you’ll be making those sounds for a different reason,” Betty muttered.

He looked at his companion with wide eyes as his jaw dropped, the spoon clattering to the table. Suddenly, his pants were uncomfortably tight.

\--

They’d finished their treats over a more in-depth conversation than he was expecting from such a spontaneous date. Jughead had gotten to learn more about Betty in those few hours than he’d known about his best friend in the decade they’ve been friends. He was enamoured; he hung on every word out of her perfectly pink and plump lips. It wasn’t until he was pulled from the bubble they’d created by the incessant chime on his phone that he even realized the time.

“I should probably get going,” Jughead sighed, placing his phone on the table, not actually wanting to leave, but he didn’t want to bogart more of her time.

He didn’t miss the momentary disappointment on her face that quickly turned to an agreeable smile. Betty picked up his phone, tapping away before putting it back down exactly where she’d found it. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t think much of it. He pocketed the device and stood up from the living room couch. He turned back to look at Betty.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “For helping me on my impossible quest.”

“It was my pleasure, honestly,” she said, joining him closer to the door.

“Maybe next time I’ll take you to dinner,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets, cheeks ablaze.

“I’d like that,” she said looping her arms around his waist, looking up and him with a warm smile.

They’d gotten cozy in their few hours together and it took more energy than he was willing to admit to not kiss her. His palm rested on her cheek and his thumb grazed her jaw steadily. Jughead watched as her eyes fluttered closed in time with his strokes. 

He pressed his forehead to hers, his own eyes closing as he was surrounded by her warmth. His nose nuzzled her, just as it had earlier, but this time, he closed that gap and pressed his lips carefully against Betty’s. It was quick and tentative, but he could feel her smiling into it. Jughead tilted her head up slightly, able to kiss her the way he had wanted to since the two hour mark of them spending the day together. 

Jughead felt her tongue swipe at his lip and he didn’t hesitate to open for her. When he eventually pulled away, their eyes were half-lidded and wore matching smiles.

“Leaky Cauldron tomorrow night?” She asked, sounding like she was still trying to catch her breath.

“It’s a date,” he winked, finally pulling himself fully from her and gathering his jacket from the coat rack.

With another quick kiss, he was out the door and on the street of London. The sun had set some hours ago, but the smile she put on his face was still firmly in place. Jughead felt his phone vibrate erratically in his pocket.

_Betty Cooper: Jughead’s phone_

She must have sent that to herself so she’d have my number, he thought.

_Betty Cooper: it’s called chocolate chip cookie dough_

_Betty Cooper: and if you like that, I can show you a lot more where that came from ;)_

  
.

.

.  
  
 _fin_

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank to: Sarah (@theheavycrown) for the reindeer games prompt that inspired this. I have no idea what I'd do without your constant support and inspiration.
> 
> Em & K: Thank you both for being rockstar betas (and humans) despite all you both have going on irl. I appreciate you both so much, I don't think I'll ever have adequate words to tell you.  
> \--  
> I'd love to hear what you thought of this fun little Potterdale piece. Any/all comments, kudos, and feedback are greatly appreciated.


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